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Life has a way of throwing us into the deep end when we least expect it. We all carry stories—some of triumph, others of heartbreak—and sometimes the weight of those untold stories can feel overwhelming. For me, the turning point came when I was at my lowest, stuck in a fog of depression that made every moment feel unbearable. Little did I know, the very thing I’d stumble upon in that season—acting—would become a lifeline. It wasn’t just about playing a role; it was about finding hope, connection, and a way back to myself. Through storytelling, I discovered something profound: the power to heal, not just for myself, but for others, too.
I remember a time when I hit what felt like my lowest emotional slump. Depression wasn’t new to me—I’d had episodes before and always found a way to muster up the energy to pull myself back on track. But this time was different. I was newly married, and while that was a positive life change, it also brought with it an identity shift. For anyone who struggles with identity, even good transitions can throw you off balance.
I can’t say it was marriage itself or the responsibilities of being a wife (especially as someone who has survived childhood relational trauma) that set me spiraling. But I found myself on a downward slide I couldn’t stop. I was seeing a therapist at the time, but therapy wasn’t daily. Outside of those short, professional sessions, I struggled to connect to myself or others. It felt like my soul was untethered, and the pain was excruciating. Now I know this was a trauma response—a hypoarousal state where everything slows down, shutting me off from life. It felt like my very existence was unraveling.
I don’t even know how I managed to function, let alone go to work. But during this period, I had signed up for a commercial acting class, and one day, I found myself sitting in the introduction session with the program’s head. She was no-nonsense, blunt to a fault, and terrifyingly honest. But she was also deeply respected, and something about her unapologetic truth-telling drew me in.
We had an exercise with a casting director present, where I had to cold-read a scene as a wife finding out her husband was having an affair. Each time, the stakes were raised: “He’s a preacher.” “He’s cheating with a man.” And so on. As I performed, I kept pulling deeper and deeper into myself, drawing from the well of my own despair. It was like I was finally able to access the depth of emotions locked inside me—not for myself, but for this character. And for the first time, I felt something shift. I wasn’t just existing; I was fully in my body, connected to my heart, to my feelings, and to the moment.
That was the day I fell in love with acting. I realized it wasn’t just a craft; it was a lifeline. I was practicing embodiment—a concept I didn’t understand at the time but now see as essential. For survivors of trauma, living in your body can feel unsafe, and detaching can become second nature. But acting gave me a way back in. It was healing, revealing, and, honestly, addicting.
The Power of Healing through Storytelling
Stories have this incredible way of creating connections. Whether you’re watching a movie, playing a character, or simply reading a good book, stories allow us to see our struggles from a new perspective. For me, working through the eyes of a character helps me understand my own life. It’s like stepping outside myself and seeing my experiences with more compassion and purpose.
The Bible is filled with stories that bring clarity and comfort. Parables, for example, use ordinary situations to teach profound truths. These narratives remind me that God’s wisdom is often found in the complexities of life—and that even our struggles can serve a purpose.
Finding Hope in Complexity
There was a time when I thought my past defined me. The heartbreak, the trauma—it felt like a permanent shadow over my life. But I want to encourage you: while your past doesn’t change, your present and future don’t have to hinge on it. Healing and growth are possible through mindset, connection, wisdom, and faith.
For me, stories became a safe way to explore my wounds. There are times when my emotions feel too overwhelming for words. But creativity—whether it’s acting, writing, or listening to music—gives those feelings a voice. It’s a way to process the unspoken and move toward hope.
How Faith Plays a Role
Faith has shaped my storytelling in ways I’m still discovering. There was no roadmap telling me that acting was the right path; it was an act of listening and trusting God’s quiet guidance. When I perform—when I feel deeply and connect to the core of my emotions—I feel alive, loved, and grounded. That’s when I know God is working in me.
God showed me that my feelings weren’t the enemy—they were a pathway to Him. Through acting, I realized my story had value, not just for me but for others. Sharing my journey and creating art inspired by it is an act of faith. I don’t know what impact my work will have, but I trust that God can use it for His glory.
I encourage you to look for God’s fingerprints in your own story. Even in the moments of struggle, He is there—guiding, teaching, and giving purpose to your pain.
My Creative Mission
This is why I create stories and performances: to glorify God, reflect His love, and inspire survivors and others to grow in faith and hope. My work is rooted in the belief that every story matters and that healing is possible through wisdom, connection, creativity, and faith.
Final Thoughts
No matter where you are in your journey, remember this: your story is still being written. It has the potential to inspire healing and hope in others—because your life is filled with meaning and purpose.
Take a moment to reflect on your story. What have you learned from your challenges? How might your experiences bring light to someone else’s life? I’d love to hear your thoughts—feel free to share them in the comments.
Let’s keep creating and growing together. ❤️
Natalie Amey
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